Feel to See, Hearts to Touch
by Writer Worrall
Summary: A one shot on how a disbled George copes after the war. Originally writen for something else, forgotten about, then tweaked when  realised it would suit this quite well.


**Feel to See; Hearts to Touch.**

The sudden absence of that which so many of us take for granted hit me hard. In loosing something so instinctively depended on, yet so infrequently appreciated, my life turned upside down.

Everything and nothing changed. My every day ways of life, and habits I didn't even realise I had, were given alternatives. I had to adapt new ways of living just in order to simply be. Yet at the same time, my family still loved me. I was still on earth, still human, still _me_. It took me far too long to realise that those nothings were perhaps the most important things in life. They cancelled out the everythings, and kept me sane when I lost sight of the woods for the trees (no pun intended).

I still joked, and played tricks on people (though this took a lot more practise to pull off now), I still teased and laughed. Perhaps I couldn't get out to see my rather extensive family as much as I once could, but I made the visits worth while when I did.

For all the complications that it brought to my life, and for all it made pranking that much more difficult, I remember the first time it really hit me was when my twin brother Fred came to see me a couple of months after our birthday. His wife Heather had recently given birth to their first born, and they had brought her round so I could meet her. They had settled in, and we were chatting amiably while drinking cups of tea, when they offered for me to hold her.

Here I fear you must forgive me a short digression. To understand what happens next, you must first understand that I could no longer put an image to a name simply by looking. I had to build a mental picture, and the way I did (and still do) this was with touch. I'm always very gentle, or so I'm told, when tracing the lines and contours of a face. For me to observe, I need contact, and for me to understand, I must feel.

And it was as I softly grazed my fingers across my nieces face that I heard a sound most beautiful to my rather sensitive ears; a delighted giggle. This was immediately followed by the sound of Heather and Alan gasping.

"George! However did you manage to-" The stunned voice of my brother was interrupted by that of his wife.

"That's the first time she's ever even smiled," Gushed Heather, "let alone laughed!"

Tiny fingers captured one of my own that was still tenderly mapping her face. Another one of those giggles followed a squeeze of said finger and I felt a smile spreading easily across my face. My hearing may have improved much since I lost my sight, but I tuned out my brother and sister-in-laws excited chatter. My focus was completely on the precious girl I held in my arms. My niece. I felt podgy cheeks, stubby fingers and hardly any hair at all, but she was so beautiful to me.

"Hey!" I felt a light jab in my shoulder. "Are you listening?"

"Sorry Heather," I murmured in an apology, the smile still playing on my lips. "I was rather zoned in on this little bundle here. What were you saying?"

"I was saying that we've been doing all sorts of silly things for a while now to try and coax into smiling- and you've just achieved it! No, there's nothing else for it- she'll have to be named after you."

I admit that I was rather too shocked to say anything. Named- after me? Fred and Heather hadn't been able to decide on a name so far, despite it being some time after her birth.

"Go on." Fred said sounding obviously amused. "Make Georgia giggle again."

So you see for me, just the simple act of observing- my way of seeing, understanding, sometimes it makes all the difference. That is perhaps one of my fondest memories, but it is not the only time that my way of seeing has had such an impact. It was after meeting Otniel, who is now my partner, when I was tracing his own face (so very rough and characteristic) and commenting on how beautiful I thought him to be that my fingers encountered something wet. A tear was running down his face; no one had ever told him he was beautiful before.

I have learnt that no matter how seemingly small it is, that observing will always change things, even for those who see with their eyes.


End file.
